Trapped
by usakeh
Summary: After the events at the end of HBP, Professor Snape and Draco Malfoy must make their way across the countryside, without magic.


"Draco?" The boy had stopped short, eyes darting frantically from one tree to the next. "Draco, what is it?" Severus' frustration with the boy's bouts of panic was increasing dramatically. He was old enough to handle it. He had to be. And who did he think got him into the situation? A more generous man might have done it, but Severus was in no way inclined to take responsibility away from Draco and push it towards his parents. No. Draco had made his own choices, fair and square. While recieving everything a young wizard could dream of having, at that. Except, perhaps, the most important elements of all: approval and genuine affection. Oh well. He couldn't even begin to count the number of children, wizard and Muggle alike, who'd been denied that privilege. Not all of them had been stupid enough to get themselves into situations like this. "Draco!"

"There's something back there," Draco said at last. His voice was slow, as if he were struggling to keep it steady. Damn you, boy, Severus thought. Don't wonder, don't look. Just _keep moving_. "I'm sure of it now."

"What, then?" Severus moved forwards stubbornly, as if he could drag Draco along behind him.

"I can't say. I don't know. Shadows." Severus swirled around, damp robes clinging tightly to him. He didn't see a damn thing, nothing but the vast and impenetrable forest thickening around them. "We have to get out of here." Draco was pleading with him, now.

"Draco, there's nothing there. Even if there were something there, moreover, it wouldn't do to dwell on it. We do have to get out of here. But unless you want to be tracked, we're not going to be using magic. So walk, Draco. _Walk._ Is this that alien a concept to you?" Severus shivered. Was he being unduly harsh? He had no time to think about it. They were both wet, hungry, exhausted; they couldn't stop, not here, not with these woods pressing in on them like this. Severus shivered again. But this time, he was well aware, it wasn't the cold that did it. "Draco!" Why was he still standing there, frozen in place? Severus approached the boy, expecting a sullen response. None came. Only when he got close indeed did he see that the boy's face was even whiter than usual. His face was slick with sweat; his chest was rising and falling at far too fast a pace. Severus grabbed onto him suddenly, and Draco flinched. "What's the matter? Are you sick? What's going on?" His tone was at once scornful and genuinely concerned.

"The shadows," Draco staggered out. He looked ready to sink down on the ground. If something was ailing him, he'd done a pretty admirable job of hiding it thus far, Severus thought approvingly. Perhaps the boy would yet prove worthy of the Malfoy name, because as he'd learned all too well himself nobody could put on an act the way a Malfoy could. "There's --- no --- air --- here," he gasped. Severus looked up. The thickness of the forest blocked out what little sunlight was left. The leaves rippled around them, closing in. Closing in.

"Malfoy! Draco," Severus continued in a more conciliatory, almost comforting tone, "are you claustrophobic?"

"What?" Draco's eyes were wide with terror.

"Afraid of small spaces?" Draco stayed frozen still for another second. Then he nodded.

"I think so." Draco looked downright queasy, as if the forest were physically pushing down upon him. "Yes. I tried to walk without thinking about it, without looking, but now it's dark and I can't see out and it's all around me. There's no way out! We'll be here forever; no matter where we go we'll be trapped. Trapped!" The boy bent down, his breathing becoming even more erratic. Severus leaned over, frowning. He was more experienced at inducing terror in students than he was in quelling it. The fact that it was his supposed favorite Draco Malfoy made no difference. What did he really think about Draco, anyway? That he was a spoiled, impudent brat? Certainly. Excellent at potions? That too. But most of the school knew that about the thin blond boy before him as well as he did. What did his experience as Head of Slytherin House and fellow Death Eater with Lucius Malfoy have to add to that? Little save for the knowledge that, above all, the boy sought desperately to be praised. To be admired. And maybe even --- maybe even now --- to be loved. And he hated nothing more than appearing weak or cowardly. Failing in public: that was the Malfoy's worst nightmare. Severus shook his head. Too bad he wasn't in the business of providing people with sudden feelings of self-worth. Again, he was more adept at destroying confidence than he was at creating it.

"Listen to me, Draco." Severus' voice was still commanding. "We'll get out of this. You'll get up. We'll keep walking, and we'll get out of here. There's no trap to this, no magic." Or was there? "Get up." The boy obeyed, shakily. His face ashen, he moved one foot in front of the next mechanically. For ten long minutes, neither of them spoke. Finally, Severus relented, slowing to let Draco walk beside him. The boy was trembling. None of his arrogance, even the absurd and misguided pride that made him step right up before the Dark Lord, could help him here. They were without magic, without motive save for that of sheer survival. And in a way they were trapped, trapped between two worlds, two sides, together. But that couldn't be said, Severus thought; they hadn't the time for maudlin statements, declarations of loyalty, offers of support. And they were Slytherins, after all. So Severus said nothing. He slowed so that Draco could walk beside him. That was all. Between them, that was enough.


End file.
